“Wanjau’s last born son has bought a cow for his mother,” the old man said while tapping at his snuff box. “I hear he want to build a big house for his parents.” He continued, looking directly at his son. His wrinkled face betrayed his optimism in his son, a mixture of doubts and hopes fuelled by the palpable envy he had for his friend’s son. Mania understood what his father meant and all too well did not object or approve. Inwardly, he was also tired of the prosaic country life, longing for the day he will break loose. That morning he had observed with jealousy at the eagle flying high and mighty. He wished it was him roaming high above with nothing to worry about but his own food. Mzee's words hang in the room, echoing in his ears. At last he decided that he too will make his parents proud that he will also be the talk of the village.
“I will make you proud; I’ll be more successful than you.” Maina swore inwardly while contemplating his options. If Wanjau’s last born son who was years younger than him could succeed in town, Maina too would try his luck.
He had noticed how humiliated his father would appear whenever in the company of his peers who were constantly bragging of their son’s success. He left home determined that he too will be the talk of the village one day. He was a man in a mission, to find any work that comes his way and save as much as possible – may be in a year or two, he could surpass his neighbours build a house for his parents, buy them a cow and perhaps be in a position to buy himself a car. He had always thought of owning a car; it was his standard of success and when he left home for the land of dreams that dream felt to hold more water, it was reachable.
Seated in his small cubicle, he looked around and remembered all the dreams he had when he arrived here three years ago. Things had not turned out as he had anticipated; not only had he been unable to go back home, he had also not saved anything. It was nearing end month, a torture time when his landlord would descend on him for he had not been able to save enough money to pay the rent. He sat there contemplating on what options he had at his disposal, maybe he should go back home to his parents. That idea did not auger well with him but options he had few.
He retraced his experiences and hardships he had endured in search of success. He had arrived in town and stayed with his cousin for a month. At first Kamau had been hospitable and understanding. Maina would wake every morning and go to round looking for anything to keep himself busy. He tried a construction site where the work lasted for a week before the owner halted the work when the project was called off by the same agent of government which had initially approved it. He tried for the next couple of days but nothing substantial was forthcoming. He managed doing some odd jobs, jobs whose inconsistence was full of frustrations.
When a cobbler who mended shoes in the shade near their estate abruptly closed his practice, Maina saw a business opportunity. He had enough money to buy the necessary tools of trade and had even the surplus to rent a single room. His cousin had suggested of his desire to marry and of late his girlfriend had been spending a lot of time in his tiny room so it was only convenient for Maina to move out.
“I have decided to move out”, he told his cousin that evening who was glad than amused of Maina’s considerations. He had been thinking of a strategy which could kick Maina out and now, peremptorily, Mania had solved the problem which had been in Kamau head.
“Seriously, when and where are you moving to?” Kamau asked sounding concerned.
“I have found a room where I will move, with the money I will save from my business, I will be able to afford it”, said Maina confidently. Kamau smiled and assured his cousin of all the support he might need. He was even generous to lend him an old mattress and beddings. He was glad to have his cousin out of his house while they were still in good terms. Not many family members who lived together in town happen to that but somehow they had managed.
His business picked up well. In the next few months Maina was able to save enough to buy a bed and some furniture. He had amassed loyal customers who regarded his work as exquisite and true he always carried his work with diligence. He had even been able to send some money to his parents in the upcountry.
“Just wait, a couple of years and things will come to fruition,” he thought. He could see his dreams nearing each day, step by step was his slogan. Just a couple of years, he consistently reminded himself. To supplement his cobbler business, Maina also started selling charcoal. It was a dirty business but at the end of the day he was glad to be making good money out of his sweat. Charcoal around his estate was a moving commodity and within a couple of months he had been able to expand his business to a point of seeking an extra hand to aid in his business. All was going well.
He had woken up early as usual on that cold July morning. His charcoal stock had arrived the previous night and he was set to start off early. The idea of his money being tied in stock was always unnerving. He would open his kiosk early so as to target his morning customers. By nine in the morning, when charcoal business will have subsided, he could start his shoe mending business and juggle between his businesses for the rest of the day.
Business was going on well; he had been busy that morning he had hardly rested. He had the screeching tires as the range rover came to a halt just outside his kiosk.
“Nani mwenye hapa?” It was a hoarse voice, unmistakable the accent of a police officer. For some strange reason, all police officers wear this accent like it is a part of their training. He raised his head to find himself surrounded by club clutching police officers. He was puzzled and confused for he had done no crime, at least as far as he could tell. His mouth dried and the tongue failed him. Until then, he had not thought himself timid but he found himself trembling under the scornful eye of these law enforcers.
“You are the one destroying forests, the law has caught up with you.” It was the same voice that had spoken earlier. Before he could utter a word, he found himself flying into the back of the range rover. Momentarily his dream faded then vanished from his mental sight.
“What have I done?” he protested but the police officers were not bothered with him. They just threw one bag of charcoal into the back just in time as another police vehicle came to a halt. The rest of his charcoal was loaded into the new vehicle. It was the last time he ever saw it.
The judge sentenced him for two months in police custody or a fine of twenty thousand. He couldn’t raise the fine and two months later when he came out of cell, even the single bag which had been used as evidence in his case was untraceable. The little money he still had was barely enough to cover his accumulated rent. Back to his cobbler business, he found out that his customers had moved on and another cobbler had erected a tent just adjacent to his.
Four months after he was released from police, the town council descended on demolishing what they referred to as illegal structures. Demolishing other people’s dreams and livelihood was a job the government was committed to carry out well. They executed it so well to find a ray of hope on their path was unheard of. Maina woke up that day to find his kiosk gone. There had been no notice of the same so nothing had been salvaged. His customers’ shoes were in his kiosk and by the time he arrived, anything that could have been salvaged had already been looted.
He stood there confused as to the next course of action he should take surely he had had enough share of problem for one lifetime. His determination had paid nothing. In a way he was at peace, at least he was still alive and his determination to succeed was intact. All he needed was just time; with time he was assured to come out with something.
The experience had been anything but what he had imagined and his suffering was vain. He had done his best to succeed but nature had conspired to scuttle all his efforts, instead rewarding him with underserved troubles.
“Betters the days when I was in the villages.” With that, he made up his mind to go back to the village perhaps that was where his blessings were.
Kabaiko was a hardened criminal who had terrorized the country for a long period. He had been in the police radar for years but his tact had ensured he had always managed to escape the police net. With most of his gang members killed or captured, he had grown extremely paranoid and distrustful of anyone. His usual hiding places did not feel secure for he feared that any of the captured comrades could crack and reveal where they hide their stashes of cash and tools of their outlawed trade. He decided that he had to go move everything to a safer place and avoid all areas known to any of his buddies. He knew all too well that the moment he crossed the path of the police, he will be done since he was wanted alive or dead.
With the town next to a national game reserve, the gang had secured a place in the park where they were certain that no one was likely to venture. The tourists and the game warden usually followed a mapped route and stayed in their vehicles most of the time. In a hill near the fence of the park, the gang had identified a perfect spot to hide their loot among the boulders of rocks. He embarked early in the morning to retrieve the money after making up his mind to move to another town, one where he suspected that none of his buddies would suspect he could hide. Back in his house he decided that he could not afford to sit with all that cash till night. Rather he felt that he needed to move and act right away.
Maina sold all his furniture and left his other possession with his cousin. He had made up his mind to swallow his pride and go back to his parents. They sure were going to be disappointed that he had not been able to find success in town but they were his parents and he was sure they would be glad to have him back home safe and sound. Actually, he was not feeling well. His bowel movement were relentless and his stomach would hear none of the few tablets he swallowed. None the less today was the day he had decided to go back home, to leave the town behind and maybe that way he could forget the hardships he had endured in this town. He had bad memories of the place; memories he wanted to forget.
There was no way he was going to travel by bus or any public vehicle in an upset stomach. With his home about a hundred kilometres from town he thought may be one of the few motor cycle riders could accept to ferry him. He was willing to pay any reasonable amount as long as the rider would from time to time stop so that Maina can relieve himself in the bushes. Since he did not have any cargo with him, it was not hard to get a rider.
The sun was higher and the morning looked brighter. He felt relieved to be heading home to his parents, to the only place where he was certain he will not suffer or have the headache of what he was going to eat as long as he toiled. He could imagine the reaction of his parents on seeing him. For the first time in a long time, he felt at peace and relief swept over his face. He wondered why he had not done this earlier, why he had not even stayed at home instead of going to town. Try as he did, he could not figure out anything of value he had gained by coming to town. He had not bought a cow or built a house for them and had actually not sent anything to them for a long time now. His clothes also, were no reflection that he had been staying in town.
Back in the village, he was sure to be the talk of the village. None of the people who had left the village earlier had ever come back in a sorry state as he was going now. But man must live, our luck does not always match and he felt stupid for coming to town in the first place. .His stomach was giving him trouble and it was time to relieve him. The rider stopped and he rushed to the bushes on the roadside.
The police were alerted of the sighting of Kabaiko when he stopped to fuel his car. They wasted no time and were soon on his pursuit. For an experienced eye, Kabaiko had been on the lookout for the first sign of trouble. His guts and suspicion told him that things were about to get ugly the moment he saw the fleet of vehicles chasing after him. He hit the gas pedal and the machine responded well. He figured out that he could try and loos the chasing cars before reaching the next road block where he suspected more police vehicles were waiting for him. After taking a few corners, he diverted his vehicle to the bushes, took his bag of money and took off on foot.
Inspector Ngotho was determined not to let the bustard live this time. He had worked in the forces for a long time now and promotion had been evasive. He craved that pay rise, fame and respect that a promotion would accord him. Today was going to be his day of fame. He could imagine his ugly mug on the telly with headlines praising him and the admiration of his superiors for nailing an evasive rascal. More so the reward money and the promotion he would get fuelled his determination. Fame was something he had always sought but so far he had been unlucky. Today was going to be his day and if it meant he would die in pursuit of the fame, he was prepared to.
Navigating the corner, he caught a glimpse of skid marks and tire trail heading to the bushes. He spans his vehicle in that direction and followed the marks. A few metres in the bushes he found the abandoned car but the suspect was nowhere in sight. He radioed and alerted other police on the pursuit that the suspect was now on foot and not on the highway.
Kabaiko was counting his luck. Hiding in a bush he had heard the speeding police cars pass nearby. He knew there was a junction nearby and decided to walk to the road that connected with the highway at the junction.
Mania was squatted, relieving himself when he saw the man with the bag. The man looked nervous and eager to rid himself off the bag. Maina saw the man throw the bag in a bush and cover it with dry branches before hurriedly walking towards the road. He scanned the direction of the man, his curiosity now piqued and he uncovered the bag. On unzipping, his eyes glowed; a muffled moan escaped his gaped mouth. The bag was full of crisp notes of money, so much money like Mania had never seen before. His body stiffened and trembled as he imagined all he could do with such money. He was afraid of heading back to the road but there was no way he was going to sit there in the bush with all a that money. Whoever the man was, Mania was certain he would come back for the money. He lifted the bag and started for the direction the man had come from his brain working complex calculations of things he would do with the money.
Inspector Ngotho was determined to nail the suspect. He had been on foot now for a couple of minutes and was tracking direction of the suspect’s foot prints, when he saw the man with the bag heading towards him. He looked nervous, occasionally peering in all the directions like someone who was aware he was being followed.
“This is my time,” thought Ngotho as he aimed his gun on the unsuspecting approached man and impetuously fired. The gun sound rang at the same time. Mania did not know what had hit him as he fell dead. Ngotho kicked the dead man, a smug of satisfaction in his face as he was sure he had earned his way to fame. He was about to radio his success when he heard a gun sound and his radio cackled.
“Roger, Suspect down. We have short the suspect, over.”
© Steve Karathi
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